


Ghosts That We Knew

by melonbug



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Amnesia, FrostIron - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, false redemption, lots of lying, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbug/pseuds/melonbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It isn’t until later that Tony realizes that the great happening of significance on this particular Thursday is not, in fact, the capture of one of their greatest enemies, but rather what happens next.</p><p>In which Loki loses his memory (<i>mostly</i>,) the team makes a choice, and Thor really just wants his brother back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, [Ricechex!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex) She was an absolutely wonderful help, and I doubt I’d have made it very far without her assistance and support!
> 
> The fic title comes from the song ‘The Ghosts that We Knew’ by Mumford and Sons, which is pretty much the theme song for this fic and gave me way too many feels while writing it.
> 
> OH, and this is, of course, slightly AU in regards to the end of the movie. Also, that one character that dies in the movie didn’t actually die, because how could you Joss Whedon?

It happens on a Thursday, which holds no real significance except that Thursday is, apparently, ‘Thor’s Day,’ as their resident god has taken to proclaiming very loudly to anyone who will listen on said day. And, okay, if Tony were at all interested in Loki’s motivations for his attack on this particular day, it being Thor’s Day may hold  _some_ significance, but as it is, Tony really,  _ really _ isn’t all that interested.  
  
He’s more preoccupied with the attack itself, and besides, Tony doubts Loki actually needs any extra motivation to cause trouble in the city other than being a little shit.  
  
So yeah, no significance, except the whole ‘happening’ thing.  
  
“Iron Man, on your left!”  
  
Tony spins in time to see the blast coming but he’s too late to dodge it. He grunts as he’s thrown straight into the corner of a building, and he can’t decide whether the impact from the hard edge of concrete or the blast to the chest hurt more. Either way, he knows he’ll probably feel both in the morning.  
  
The suit’s hud goes crazy at the impact, and he plummets downward from the hole he’s made in the building. Tony struggles and swears, but finally manages to right himself, kicking on the boot repulsors just in time to catch himself before he finishes his free fall to the street some thirty feet below.  
  
A moment passes and he recovers enough to take to the air again, scanning his surroundings for the Loki that had attacked him.  
  
Yes,  _ the _ Loki, because  _plain old, singular_ Loki has decided it would be a good idea to divide himself into ten Loki’s in order to wreak ten times the havoc.  
  
As if one of him wasn’t bad enough.  
  
Tony  _does_ ,  however, have to give credit where credit is due. It’s a damn clever tactic, and so far it’s working out great in the god’s favor. Unfortunately for them.  
  
He didn’t even know Loki could split up his magic like that, though he supposes it should be rather obvious that it’s possible. The entire concept is even rather simple, really. If he can make clones of himself with magic, then it’s perfectly reasonable that he can also divide his magic between them. Not that logic like this actually needs to apply to magic, but whatever.  
  
“Any luck finding the real one?” He asks over the comms, firing a repulsor blast down at the Loki that Steve is fighting on the street below. The clone (or maybe it’s the real one, hell if Tony knows) takes it to the shoulder and is distracted long enough that Steve is able to punch him clear off his feet. He lands some feet away, shoulder still smoking from the blast.  
  
“None, yet,” Clint’s voice crackles back, “I just took out two, though. So I guess we’re down to, what, eight?”  
  
“Seven, actually,” Natasha cuts in smoothly, “Hulk just took one out.”  
  
“Great, at this rate we’ll have taken out all of them before we even find the real one.” Tony lifts his eyes from where Steve is finally holding his own against his Loki with ease, and spots a flash of gold and green lurking on a the top of an apartment building not too far away. He grins, taking off in that direction. “Guys? Scratch that, I may have just found him.”  
  
Thor’s voice is loud as it chimes in to the conversation, and Tony flinches as it sends a burst of static bouncing in his ears. “That is wonderful, Man of Iron! If we can defeat the real Loki, then the replicas should vanish.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan.”  
  
Tony does, indeed, find Loki on top of the building, or  a Loki at least, as he still isn’t entirely sure this isn’t another clone. The Liesmith is tucked against the roof access structure, hiding most likely, with his head bowed in concentration and his hands linked in front of him, his lips moving rapidly in some kind of chant that Tony can’t quite hear. The god has somehow not noticed him approach, and doesn’t even glance his way as he drops to a hover a good ten, fifteen feet away. Tony decides that he must be about to cast a spell, or perhaps is maintaining the spell to keep all of the other Loki’s running about through the streets below.  
  
Either way, he’s distracted and vulnerable, and Tony only hesitates for a second before taking the shot, firing a missile straight at him.  
  
A moment before the missile hits him, Loki’s eyes fly open and he swivels to face Tony, green light cackling and breaking the air around him. The energy from whatever spell he was casting bubbles outward around him for a split second before imploding back to it’s source. And then the missile hits it’s target and explodes, sending Loki off his feet and over the edge of the building.  
  
Tony takes a moment to congratulate himself before remembering that Loki’s just been hit with a mini missile and likely just fallen fifteen stories to the ground below and Tony  does not want to have to explain to Thor how he just killed his brother .  
  
Like that would even kill a god, but  still , he should at least go check on the guy. He’s probably not even unconscious, the asshole.  
  
Except that he is, apparently, when Tony finally reaches him. Very unconscious and collapsed in a very ungodlike heap in the middle of the street.  
  
“Guys,” he begins slowly, nudging the god with one metal boot, “I think we’ve just caught ourselves a God of Mischief.”

  
*

  
When Loki wakes, it is to confusion and pain and blinding, bright lights. His head throbs and his body aches and he knows, almost at once, that he is not on Asgard as he should be. Everything about this place feels too wrong to be Asgard.  
  
It is hardly the first time he has awoken in such a manner in an unfamiliar place, but it is no less disconcerting.  
  
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, gathering his wits about him. It would hardly do to panic. He is supposed to be the calm and level headed one.  
  
Moments pass and, at long last, he opens his eyes again and drags himself upright. The movement brings to light a whole slew of new aches and pains throughout his body and he ignores them in favor of taking stock of his surroundings.  
  
He is on a cot, his hands shackled with something that he doubts would be strong enough to hold him. The room he inhabits is small and cell like– four white walls, one made up almost entirely of what appears to be a mirror, and a single door in the corner that looks to be heavily reinforced. He wonders briefly if the people who put him here even have any idea who he is.  
  
Loki studies his bonds briefly, testing their strength. They’re strong, but nothing that he can not escape from with magic. He keeps them on for now, though. There’s no real need to alert his captors to his ability to escape just yet, at least not until he knows what he’s up against.  
  
Eventually, he stands, and when he does, the world pitches and spins around him. He stumbles and catches himself at the last moment against the mirror, trying to shake the dizzyness. His head throbs violently and he  really wishes he could remember what happened and how he got here.  
  
His brother, at least, is somewhere nearby. He can sense the magic of Mjölnir just beyond the mirror, and the presence is calming and familiar. Surely Thor will know what is happening. He is more than likely in a similar situation as Loki, perhaps still unconscious, perhaps injured more so than him. Thor would never have gone down without fighting to the end.  
  
Oh, how Loki hates that his brother makes him worry so.  
  
Across the room, the door groans and rattles and finally swings open, revealing a tall man with an eye patch and a long leather coat. He comes to stand in the center of the room and Loki turns to face him, curious to finally meet his captor. They stand face to face in silence for a moment before Loki finally speaks.  
  
“Where am I?”  
  
The man snorts. “I hardly think you’re in a position to be asking me questions,” he tells him, gesturing to the shackles around his wrists.  
  
Loki frowns. “I merely wish to know where I am, is that so much to ask?”  
  
“You’re in a holding cell in Stark Tower.”  
  
“Yes, but what  _ realm _ am I on, mortal?”  
  
The man regards him coolly. “Earth,” he says at last, “Or Midgard, as I believe you Asgardian’s call it.”  
  
“I see,” Loki replies softly, turning to study the mirror again. “And my brother, Thor. Where is he?” He has a great many questions he wishes to ask this man, but his concern for his brother is finally making itself known. Midgard is a realm of mortals, and to know that they have somehow captured he and his brother is–  _harrowing_ , to say the least.  
  
“I don’t see how that’s any of your concern right now,” the man begins, only for Loki to cut him off.  
  
“He is my  _brother_ ,” he snaps, his patience running thin, “And I would see that he is unharmed. Now tell me, what have you done with him?” The last sentence comes out as a shout but the man doesn’t so much as flinch.  
  
“Thor is fine.”  
  
Loki takes a deep breath and calms himself. “Then I would speak with him,” he says softly, “You will let me see him.” It is not a question.  
  
“You do not get to make demands of  me –” the man snarls, only to stop mid-sentence at the sound of a booming, but muffled, voice from the other side of the mirror. He turns his gaze to it and lets out something akin to an angry sounding sigh. “God _dammit_! Fine, let him in!” He turns back to Loki with a sneer. “You get five minutes with him before we start interrogating your ass.”  
  
The door slams open and Thor storms in, Mjölnir tight in his grip. Loki is not sure what he is expecting, but he’s surprised to see him like this. He is unharmed and still  armed , even, and his confusion only increases tenfold.  
  
“Brother! What is going on here?”  
  
The man from before glances at Thor and throws his hands up.  _ “Five minutes_,” he tells the god, before stalking out, closing the door behind him, leaving Thor and Loki alone together.  
  
Loki clears his throat. “Brother?”  
  
Thor blinks and stares at him with an odd expression. “You were captured,” he says simply, and Loki huffs, gesturing violently with his shackled hands.  
  
“ _Obviously_ , Thor. But what  _happened_ .”  
  
“You attacked the–” He pauses, looking him up and down carefully, “Do you truly not remember, brother?” He releases his hammer and reaches forward to rest his hands on Loki’s shoulders.  
  
Loki pulls himself from his brother’s grip, giving the room he is in a sidelong glance. “No,” he says softly, “No I do not.”  


 

*

  
It’s pushing midnight by the time Tony makes it to the debriefing. Or rather, by the time the debriefing even starts, because Tony’s only about fifteen minutes late. That’s nothing new though. Running late to meetings has kind of become his thing since joining the Avengers. ‘Fashionably late’ as he likes to call it (because isn’t  _that_ original), but Fury never seems inclined to agree.  
  
But  really, they’ve been back at the tower for hours, and the debriefing is only just now starting. And Fury isn’t even  there when he walks through the door.  
  
Tony’s not complaining though, because he gets to avoid the lecture that always follows his late arrivals.  
  
The entire team’s already gathered (minus Thor, though that’s hardly a surprise,) looking as exhausted as Tony feels. He gives them a grin as he drops himself carefully down into a chair, wary of the bruises he now sports from the battle earlier. Turns out the impact with the building hurts  _ much _ worse.  
  
“What’s happening, guys?” he asks, settling into as comfortable a sprawl as he can manage in his chair. He  _picked out_ these chairs, you’d think they’d be more comfortable. He should probably look into getting them replaced.  
  
Across the table, Clint stretches and props his feet up on the table. “Just waiting on Thor and Fury, I guess.”  
  
Next to Tony, Steve clears his throat and leans forward. “I am sure that they have a good reason for being so late,” he says, giving Tony a sour look that clearly shows his disapproval at the man’s tardiness. An ‘unlike you, Tony’ goes unspoken. Not that that matters, Tony just ignores him either way.  
  
“Maybe Loki’s woken up and started causing trouble?” Bruce asks, stifling a yawn. He looks horrible, clearly exhausted and barely awake, though he’s probably fared the battle better than the rest of them. At least he won’t be waking up with bruises everywhere.  
  
Bruce’s speculation is definitely a possibility, though. They don’t exactly have a proper way to restrain Loki and his magic. Tony should  _ really _ get on that, actually.  
  
“Unlikely,” Natasha finally speaks up, looking up from her phone, “The alarm would have sounded if he’d started causing any trouble. Fury is probably still interrogating him.”  
  
Tony snorts. “Like he’ll get far with that, dude’s the god of lies and all.”  
  
She just shrugs and goes back to whatever it is she’s doing on her phone. Probably Angry Birds or something.  
  
An awkward silence falls over the room, and Tony eventually yawns loudly just to break it. It’s  late , and this is ridiculous, honestly. They’ve waited to debrief until morning before, and he doesn’t see why Fury absolutely insists on having one now.  
  
They just caught the bad guy, the least he could do is let them sleep before shouting at them about stuff.  
  
And speak of the devil, apparently Fury’s finally decided to show up. And he’s already yelling about something; Tony can hear his voice traveling down the hallway.  
  
A moment later, the door slams open and he storms in, Thor right on his heels.  
  
“–out of your  _goddammed_ mind.” Fury finishes snarling, marching to the front of the room. Thor follows him like some sort of puppy, ignoring their audience.  
  
“At least consider what I have to say on the matter!” He exclaims, voice rough and strained. He moves Mjölnir from hand to hand several times before apparently deciding that it gets it's own seat today and promptly dropping it into the empty chair next to Tony.  
  
Fury scowls. "I have, and the answer is no!"  
  
"I beg of you–"  
  
"Do you not understand the meaning of–”  
  
"Hey, hey– Can we maybe  _stop_ with all the yelling?" Tony cuts in, eyeing the two wearily. “Because– and I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say this– it is  way too late for this much yelling.”  
  
Fury scowls at him but doesn’t respond. He finally turns to address the team instead, ignoring Thor as well, who still stands nearby, looking less than happy.  
  
“It would appear,” he begins at last, “That our god of mischief has come down with a convenient case of amnesia.”  
  
There’s a beat of awkward silence following his statement and then the room bursts into noise as everyone starts trying to speak at once.  
  
“You have got to be fucking  _kidding_ me,” Clint’s voice booms out above everyone else’s, more or less reflecting the general consensus on this among the team.  
  
Tony, for the most part isn’t so much mad about the ‘convenient amnesia’ thing as he is about how inconvenient dealing with it will be. This is bound to eat up a lot of time tonight, and he really just wants to get to bed already.  
  
There goes any hope he had of this being a quick debriefing.  
  
Eventually, the noise dies down enough for Steve to get a question in. “Are we entirely certain, sir, that this is not some kind of trick?”  
  
Thor levels him with a glare from where he stands behind Fury. “I can assure you that this is no trick. My brother was–”  
  
Clint interrupts him. “But how can we be  sure . I mean, this is awful convenient, isn’t it? We capture him and suddenly he just forgets everything?”  
  
“Loki has not forgotten everything, Barton,” Thor continues, “He has simply lost a portion of his memory."  
  
"Let me guess," Bruce says, sounding almost bored, "He's forgotten that he tried to take over the world, right?"  
  
Thor turns to him, startled. "How did you know?"  
  
"Lucky guess," he mutters. “Really though, doesn’t that seem even a  _ little _ suspicious to you?”  
  
Thor hesitates and looks the team over. “You did not see him when he woke. He was disoriented and confused, and believed he and myself to have been captured. He expressed  concern for me and-”  
  
“Whoopdedoo. He pretended to care about you. I still don’t see how you can be so sure about this,” Clint says, clearly more than displeased with the way events have unfolded.  
  
The god narrows his eyes at him and continues. “The person who awoke in that cell was my brother as I knew him before–” He cuts himself off frowning. “He is as I knew him in Asgard, before his fall. I am certain of it.”  
  
Fury finally speaks up, apparently having had enough of the back and forth. “As much as I don’t want to believe it,” he tells them, “I do. I spoke with both Loki and Thor at length, and this is far too convincing to be a trick. I do not believe that even the god of lies could pull off such an act as this, given what I have gathered from Thor.”  
  
“Ok, fine. So let’s assume he has, in fact, lost his memories,” Tony begins, finally deciding to give his two cents, “ _ How _ exactly could that have even happened? He’s a  _god_ .” He slouches back into his chair, deciding he might as well get comfortable, because this conversation is definitely going to take a while.  
  
The room falls silent ( again with the silence, and this really must reflect on how tired they all are that it even keeps happening,) and all eyes fall on Tony, who drags himself forward and out of his slouch defensively. “Hey,  _no_ . Don’t look at me like that. It’s a good question.”  
  
Natasha sighs and props her chin up in her hand. Her phone, Tony notices, is nowhere in sight. “You apprehended him, Tony. If anyone should have the answer to that question it would be you.”  
  
“All I did was take him out, not–”  
  
“Didn’t you throw him off a building, though?” Bruce asks.  
  
“I did not  _throw_ –” He stops himself and scoffs, “Does it really matter? Need I remind you guys that he _ threw me out of a window _ once? A fifteen story fall is hardly–”  
  
Steve looks at him, unamused. “Not saying the guy didn’t deserve it, but wasn’t that building more like twenty stories high?”  
  
“ _Fifteen_ ,” Tony hisses at him. This whole ‘gang up on Tony’ thing is getting old fast. “And like I said–”  
  
“Actually, that apartment building was sixteen stories tall,” Clint chimes in and, okay, Tony’s had enough now.  
  
“ _Does it matter_ ?” He half shouts, slamming a hand down onto the table, “He’s a  _god_ . A fall that far wouldn’t even concuss him!”  
  
Next to him, Thor nods in agreement. “Anthony Stark is correct. Such a fall would hardly have harmed my brother.” He frowns and glances at Tony. “Surely, though, something else must have happened. Such memory loss within an Asgardian is hardly a normal occurrence.”  
  
Again, all eyes are on him and he drags himself to his feet, suddenly recalling the strange spell that Loki had been casting when he found him. “Jarvis! Throw up the footage from the suit.”  
  
“Do you remember something, Stark?” Fury asks.  
  
“Actually, I think I do have something for you guys.”  
  
The screen behind Fury lights up and Tony makes his way over to it, yawning. “Now forward to where I finally found Loki,” he instructs Jarvis, who immediately does as he’s asked. The video on the screen speeds up, and the team watches the battle from Tony’s point of view in fast forward. “Ah, right there!” The video pauses and Tony studies it carefully before tapping the screen and allowing it to continue at regular speed.  
  
He pauses it again when he gets it to where he needs it and zooms in. “Here.” He gestures at the image of Loki on the screen, surrounded by a flood of odd green light.  
  
“He appears to have cast some kind of spell,” Thor comments loudly, and Tony rolls his eyes.  
  
“Obviously. I thought perhaps he was maintaining all those clones with whatever he was doing, so it didn’t seem important until now.”  
  
Fury makes a derisive noise. “ _ Everything _ that happens on a mission is important, Stark, regardless of relevance,” he snaps.  
  
Tony ignores him. “Okay,  _anyway_ , Loki was casting some kind of spell when I found him.”  
  
“My brother would not have needed such a spell in order to maintain the clones,” Thor informs him, squinting at the screen.  
  
“It looks almost as if whatever he’s casting backfired on him,” Natasha notes and Tony grins, giving her a thumbs up.  
  
“Exactly. So Thor, tell us– is it possible that a backfired spell could have done this to him?”  
  
The god hesitates and points to the screen. “The amount of magic coming off of him here suggests that it was a powerful spell. It is likely that you broke his concentration when you attacked him, and that is why it backfired. Without him directing where the magic should go, it returned to its source. So yes, it is  possible . Depending on what spell he was trying to cast.”  
  
Tony closes the video down and returns to his seat. “Well there we go. Memory loss possibly explained.”  
  
“I don’t see why we’re even discussing this,” Clint says, “Seriously, who gives a flying fuck about whether or not he  really lost his memory, which I still doubt by the way, or even how he lost it. He’s going back to Asgard either way.”  
  
Thor shifts awkwardly in his seat. “Actually–”  
  
Clint swears and leans forward in his chair. “Oh  _hell_ no. I thought that was the plan, you guys,” he exclaims, exasperated, “We catch Loki, he goes back to Asgard. We wipe our hands of all this and let Thor and his group deal with him.”  
  
“And that is  still the plan,” Fury says, “Because the last time I checked, Thor, you are not the one who gets to make those decisions.”  
  
Thor lurches to his feet, wrapping a hand around Mjölnir. “I would not see my brother punished for crimes he does not remember committing!” he exclaims.  
  
Fury steps forward threateningly. “You  _will_ take him back to Asgard, or he will be taken into Shield custody where we will deal with him. And I doubt you’d like what we have planned for him after the stunt with the Chitauri.”  
  
“You have no right–”  
  
“I have  _ every _ right.”  
  
Thor tightens his grip on his hammer while Fury stares him down and eventually Steve speaks up, trying to stop this from escalating.  
  
“Thor, what would you suggest we do with him, then, if not have him brought to justice for his crimes?”  
  
“Crimes he neither remembers committing nor knows he committed! And I would have my brother once again fighting by my side, here on Midgard.”  
  
The room erupts into noise again and Tony sighs, rubbing his head. He’s starting to get a headache from all this.  
  
“You’ve lost your damn mind,” Clint chokes out, “You don’t honestly expect for us to just let him go, do you?”  
  
“By your side? What, like a member of the  _team_. Honestly, Thor.”  
  
“Memories or not, he tried to take over the  _planet_. And let’s not forget how he almost  killed Coulson.”  
  
Amidst the noise, Natasha makes her presence known. “Actually, I think it sounds like a good idea.”  
  
Everyone falls silent almost at once, staring at her. Thor grins. “Lady Natasha, I am so glad you understand–”  
  
“Oh god,” Clint groans, “You’ve lost your mind, too.”  
  
“I can assure you that I have not, Clint,” she says, glaring at him. “I do, however, see an excellent opportunity here. Think about it. This is a good chance to study him more closely, both him  and his magic. Not to mention that his skillset would also be an asset to this team, however long he’s here.”  
  
“She does have a point there,” Tony adds, “I could learn a lot from seeing his magic up close. And hell, if he doesn’t remember being our enemy I could probably convince him to let me study it up in the lab. Maybe develop a way to restrain it. You know, for when he  _ does _ remember.”  
  
“Yeah, remembers and  _kills us all in our sleep_!” Clint mutters, voice cracking slightly.  
  
They all ignore him.  
  
“I do not know how comfortable I feel with you tricking my brother in such a way, Man of Iron.”  
  
Tony shrugs. “You’re the one proposing that we let him fight alongside us and basically join the team, or what not. How exactly do you expect that to work? ‘Oh, hey, you used to be one of our biggest enemies, but now we want you on our side because you don’t remember any of that.’”  
  
“Tony’s right, we can’t exactly tell him the truth about this if we let this happen,” Bruce says.  
  
“This is not happening, why are we all even discussing this?” Clint tries again, looking to Fury.  
  
Fury frowns. “Because Natasha made a good point.”  
  
“We could perhaps put this to this democratic process that Steve has told me so much about?” Thor proposes hesitantly, casting a nervous glance at Fury.  
  
“What, and vote on it? And when the hell did this team become a democracy, anyway?” Tony asks.  
  
Fury crosses his arms. “The team can vote on it if they want, but I’m still the one making the final decision on this,” he informs Thor, who brightens considerably.  
  
“Friends! What say you?”  
  
“Hey, can we get back to how this would even work before we start voting on this? We don’t even have a  _plan_ .” Tony tells them, trying to keep the conversation from derailing.  
  
“Does it really matter what we tell him, so long as he believes it? Either way, it won’t go so well once he remembers,” Bruce asks.  
  
“True enough. What’s to stop him from coming after all of us when he remembers?”  
  
Tony considers Steve’s question for a moment. “Jarvis. If he can figure out how to follow Loki’s energy, magic,  _ whatever _ signature, then he can alert us to any mischief he may try and cause. And regardless, Jarvis can keep track of his movements around the tower,” he says, “He does anything suspicious and Jarvis will let us know.”  
  
“Well, that’s settled then.” Natasha stands up, pressing her palms flat to the table. “You all know what my vote for this is.”  
  
Steve sighs and rises as well. “I don’t much like what I suspect Shield has in store should Thor refuse to return Loki to Asgard, and Natasha does make a good point. This is a good opportunity, however long it may last. I’ll have to vote in favor of this as well.”  
  
Bruce closes his eyes and ‘hmms’ under his breath.“This is going to backfire on us badly, I can already tell, but why the hell not.”  
  
Clint stands abruptly. “Am I seriously the only person who  didn’t  wake up on the crazy train this morning?”  
  
“So is that a nay?”  
  
He opens his mouth to speak but then hesitates, looking around at the team. After a moment, he sighs and sits back down. “It hardly matters what I think, right? I’ve already been outvoted."  
  
“You’re still a member of this team, Clint. Your opinion on this does matter,” Natasha tells him.  
  
He frowns. “Okay then, I’m not a hundred percent on board with this– considering my  history with the guy– And I’m still not entirely sure I believe this whole convenient ‘amnesia’ thing. But–” Clint pauses and glances over at Thor. “If this is for real, the amnesia thing I mean, then I guess I have to say I do kind of see the point you all are making.”  
  
Thor looks at him hopefully and Clint sags in his chair with another sigh.  
  
“Alright, I’m for it. So long as I don’t have to be nice to the guy.”  
  
Tony grins and stands as well. “Excellent! I’ve been dying to get a good, close look at Loki’s magic. So I’d have to say I’m okay with this, overall.”  
  
Thor smiles at them all, glancing over at Fury, who looks the team over with his one good eye. “Alright, then. But  _ when _ this backfires, and it will, it’s going to be on your head, Thor, not ours.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Shorter chapter this time, guys! I kind of wanted to keep a particular theme going with this chapter, and adding the final scene I originally had planned kind of threw that off. So we get brotherly feels this chapter, and Loki will meet the team next chapter!
> 
> And again, many many thanks to [Ricechex!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex), who actually got this uploaded for me, as I appear to have some sort of curse on me involving formatting issues.

Three am finds the debriefing finally over and done with, and Tony milling about his penthouse suite, unable to sleep. Figures, really, that once he was finally able to go to bed he would be hit with a bout of insomnia. Fucking Fury and his long ass debriefings.

But really, given the events of the prior evening he supposes he can hardly blame Fury for the length of the debriefing.

Tony sighs and drags himself from his sprawl on the sofa, dropping his tablet on the coffee table. If he can't sleep then he might as well be productive. His suit still needs some repairs from the battle with Loki and if he's lucky, he can probably knock out most of it before the sun rises.

But first,  _coffee_.

The elevator ride down to the main living quarters is short, and soon enough he's stepping into the kitchen and heading for the coffee pot. He hums under his breath as he makes the coffee, some song that he'd heard on the radio and doesn't know the name of, but it's been stuck in his head for a week.

The smell of coffee is just starting to fill the room when someone clears their throat behind him. He swivels around in the chair he's settled into, half expecting to find Bruce or Steve, whose sleeping habits are about as awful as his own, and instead finds Thor standing awkwardly in the doorway.

He manages a half wave. "Hey, big guy, trouble sleeping?"

Thor drops down into the chair across from him with a heavy sigh. "It is my brother, he–"

Tony jerks his head up from where he's turned back to his tablet, which he'd thankfully remembered to bring with him. "Loki? Shit, something happen?" His first thought is that, perhaps, Loki has suddenly remembered, and after all the trouble they've gone through to make this plan work. Or that maybe he has not taken the memory loss well, and turned Thor's bed into a goat or something in a fit of anger. "Did he, uhh–" He wets his lips, "Did he not take the news well?"

The god shakes his head, face creased into a frown. "It is not that– He took it...  _well enough_ , I suppose."

Tony frowns as well. "What was the story we went with again? Mind control?" He'd been half asleep towards the end of the debriefing, but he's fairly certain they'd eventually decided on telling Loki that he was mind controlled, to explain why the team was going to be so unfamiliar and wary around him.

It'd been Bruce's idea, something about how keeping the story as close to the truth as possible would probably be better and easier to keep to in the long run. So Loki knows he was not-so-good, but not that he was willingly evil. And they even have a handy explanation for the memory loss. Breaking the mind control spell must have caused it.

And of course, they 'conveniently' don't know the source of the mind control yet.

In front of him, Thor nods. "He was, however, disconcerted to be told that there exists an unknown force capable of controlling him."

Tony snorts. "And he  _should_  be. Can you imagine if that were actually true? Something capable of submitting him to their will, mind control or not?"

Thor mumbles out an agreement and there is a pregnant pause before he shifts uncomfortably and looks down at his hands.

"You okay?"

"I am conflicted," he finally begins softly, looking back up at Tony, and Tony frowns, seeing the serious turn this conversation is bound to take and finally closing out what he's doing and putting his tablet aside. "I realize that what we are doing– That tricking Loki as we are doing is wrong, and yet–" Thor pauses and lets out a ragged breath. "You have to understand, he is my brother. He will always be my brother, no matter what he has done, and I would do whatever it takes to make things right between us again, if it is at all still possible."

Tony isn't sure what to say to that, so he says nothing.

"And now, I finally have my brother back," Thor continues, "This is far from how I had hoped it would happen, and I would never have wished this upon him, even to have him by my side once more, and yet– Part of me almost hopes that he never regains his lost memories, so that I do not have to lose him once more."

Tony props his head up in his hand, still mostly at a loss for words. Here he is at three in the morning, more or less discussing  _feelings_  with the God of Thunder. And yes, this is  _actually his life_.

And honestly, part of him has to agree with what Thor just said. How convenient and wonderful would it be if Loki just never remembered? The team won't ever have to deal with the fallout of this frankly ludicrous plan, Thor can finally have his brother back for good, and everything can go back to relative normalcy.

Thor lifts his eyes from where he has been staring sullenly at the table, meeting his gaze and looking, briefly, as if he hadn't quite realized Tony was still there. "I am sorry, Tony, for plaguing you with such unhappy thoughts, especially at such a late hour–"

He waves the comment off, managing a weak grin. "Hey, don't worry about it. That's what friends are for." And hell, something has definitely been accomplished this night, even, if not his suit repairs. Thor calling him Tony, for starters, which is rare. Usually it's 'Anthony' or 'Anthony Stark' or 'Man of Iron'. Most often, it seems to be 'Man of Iron.' Thor  _loves_  calling people by their titles, however wrong he may get them.

Tony leans forward, resting his now crossed arms against the table. "Listen, Thor. I can't say I completely understand what you're going through here, or that I know how it must feel. But I do  _get_ it, I guess. You love your brother, and no one faults you for that, even if he is a–" Tony cuts himself off before he says 'crazy psycho,' and quickly settles on something that will be less upsetting for Thor to hear. "A bit  _unstable._  And I wish there was something I could say or do to make you feel better, or to help at all but– You know how I am, Thor. I'm not exactly a 'feelings' kind of person, and I'm definitely not all that good at comforting people or giving words of advice."

He pauses, briefly, to situate his thoughts and what he wants to say next. Across the table, Thor waits patiently, watching him carefully.

"I'm your friend, Thor. Hell, all of us are, you know that. And if you need to talk, at all, we're always here to listen.  _I'm_  always here to listen. If you need it.  _Whenever_  you need it. And sometimes that alone can help," he finishes lamely.

Thor beams at him and gives him an expression that looks to be on the verge of emotional. Tony forces a smile, suddenly worried that the big guy might be about to cry or something, and,  _ohgod_ , he thought he had enough trouble dealing with  _feelings._  A crying god is a whole different, and much worse, thing entirely.

He doesn't cry though, doesn't even begin to tear up, and Tony watches in relief as he stands and circles the table to clap him hard on the shoulder. Tony winces, not so much because it hurts (and he's used to it by now, really, if only because this is pretty much an everyday thing with Thor), but because it jostles him in the chair and aggravates his sore, bruised side.

And  _goddamn_ , is there not a chair in this tower that isn't uncomfortable? What was he thinking when he picked them out, honestly?

"I thank you, Anthony, for your patience and support this night," Thor says, voice level and normal once more, if a tad on the loud side (but again,  _normal_  for Thor). "It has been much appreciated."

Tony returns his grin, stifling a yawn. "Really, big guy, like I said, it's no problem."

Thor nods in understanding and, finally, heads back to bed, leaving Tony alone with his thoughts.

The conversation with Thor has given him a much better perspective on things, and he really feels bad for the guy. All he wants is his brother back, and now he finally has him, and it's a curse. A ticking time bomb waiting to explode in his face the moment Loki remembers.

Tony sighs and glances at the clock with another yawn. It's pushing four now, and finally he is back to barely-awake, his plans for the night abandoned and his coffee made but never drunk. And really, he should probably just head back to bed, because Thor is supposed to introduce them to Loki in the morning, and it wouldn't do if he isn't even awake for  _that_ awkwardness.

With a mournful glance at the coffee pot, he finally stands and heads back to bed.

 

*

 

Loki's sleep is troubled, interspersed with nightmares and dreams that don't make sense, and it is almost a relief when morning finally comes.

He opens his eyes to an unfamiliar room, and sunlight,  _too much sunlight_ , and it takes him a moment to remember where he is and why. The events of the night before come flooding back and he closes his eyes to the light, taking a deep breath and trying to sort his thoughts.

He had hoped, though it was a desperate hope, to wake with his memories intact, but he quickly finds that there is nothing different now, upon waking, than there was the night before, other than a distinct lack of incarceration.

Loki takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

Nothing. He can remember absolutely nothing, and even the events of the night before feel strange and far away, as if they had happened to someone else. It all feels like some sort of weird dream that he is on the verge of waking from. He has been estranged from his own life, and made a stranger to this world that he has apparently been existing in for months, and none of it feels  _real_.

He sighs, and finally drags himself from the bed, noting, as he does so, that all of the aches and pains of the previous evening are now gone, as was to be expected. At least something was accomplished by his intermittent sleep, because outside of feeling  _better_ , he feels neither rested nor composed.

There is a loud knock at his door and he starts.

"Brother!" Thor's voice booms from the hallway. "Are you awake?"

Loki presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighs, mentally preparing himself for the headache that is sure to be his brother awake and already boisterous this early in the morning.

"I am," he calls out at last, striding over to the dresser and fumbling through the Midgardian clothing that had been provided for him the night before. They are all strangely soft and flimsy, not unlike the underthings he wears beneath his armor, and again, he has to remind himself that this is Midgard and that armor is, apparently, not considered standard attire here.

There is silence on the other side of the door following his response and Loki thinks, for a moment, that his brother must have left. And then Thor speaks again, his voice softer than before. "May I enter?" he asks, and Loki frowns, because it is unlike his brother to ask entrance to any place he wishes to enter, and more like him to just barge in with little to no warning.

"You may," Loki tells him.

Across the room, the door clicks open and Thor steps in hesitantly, as if still wary of invading his brother's space. Loki studies him for a moment before returning his attention to the clothes and grabbing up something to wear at random.

"Is something the matter?" he asks, after another moment passes in silence.

Thor shakes his head. "No, it is nothing. I am just glad to see you again, brother."

"You saw me last night," Loki points out, mildly confused as to the turn this conversation appears to be taking. In front of him, Thor shifts from foot to foot, looking awkward and out of place in the doorway.

"I only mean after all that has happened– After so many months–" He tries and fails several times to respond, only to finally give up and fall silent once more. And then, softly, he says, "I believed you dead, when you– When you fell. I–"

"You mourned for me?" Loki asks, surprised. His brother had been vague on the details the night before, telling him only what he needed to know to understand the situation, but he does know of his apparent fall from the bifrost during what his brother had only referred to as a battle against Jotunheim.

He spoke little of what had happened after that, only saying that when he reappeared, his actions were no longer his own and he was being controlled by some unknown force.

Thor had not told him what these 'actions' were, and Loki had not pressed him for details upon seeing how uncomfortable even speaking of it made him.

That he was believed dead after this fall, though, is shocking news. Though, he supposes, it should not be. Such a fall as his brother had described to him should surely have killed him, and he tries not to wonder too much about what may have actually befallen him during his disappearance afterwards that he should have returned in such a state as he did.

"Of course I mourned for you, Loki, you are my brother," Thor says. "Do not sound so surprised."

Loki moves to sit on the edge of the bed, strangely overwhelmed, and surprisingly even  _conflicted_ , by this news. Dead– his brother, and likely all of Asgard, as well– believed him  _dead_ , and he has no idea how to feel about this information.

"I am sorry," Thor suddenly says, and he looks up, startled and confused.

"What ever for?"

His brother drops his gaze to the floor briefly before looking back at him. "I have not always treated you as I should, and for that I am sorry. It took me losing you to realize this, and to understand that you are more important to me than I– You are more important to me than I may have once led you to believe."

There is confusion more than anything else at what Thor says, but Loki is also touched by his brother's words. Still, he is unsure what to say in response.

Thor clears his throat and continues. "You may not understand now, but you will. When you– When you remember."

Loki nods slowly and watches his brother carefully. Not for the first time since waking the night before, he finds that his brother's behavior is strange. "You have changed," he murmurs quietly, almost to himself, and the realization is painful, to know that he has woken not only to a world he is unfamiliar with, but also to a brother he no longer truly knows.

"A lot has happened that you do not remember, brother," Thor tells him, "A lot has changed."

"What happened?" Loki asks, because he wants to know, and his brother's explanation from the night before had been vague and brief, and given him no further understanding of what could possibly have happened to have altered him so. "What happened to make you change?"

Thor smiles but it does not reach his eyes and he continues to gaze at him sadly. "It is a long story, Loki. One that I would gladly share with you were we not expected elsewhere now."

Loki frowns and it takes him a moment to remember that he is supposed to meet the team that Thor has spoken of. The  _Avengers_ , his brother has told them they are called.

He nods. "Perhaps later then."

"Yes, later." Thor echoes, and Loki has a sudden feeling that 'later' will actually be 'never' and quite abruptly he no longer wishes for his brother's company, his mood having soured.

He stands and strides over to the door. "Perhaps you should leave now, then, and allow me to get ready," he suggests, and his voice sounds harsher than he had intended.

Beside him, Thor tenses slightly. "I shall wait for you then–" he begins, but Loki cuts him off.

"There is no need. You showed me the way to the common area last night, and I can find my way there myself when I am ready," he tells him, and again, it sounds more aggressive than he had meant for it to, but he can hardly bring himself to care now.

Thor nods, and his voice sounds strained when he finally answers. "I understand, brother. I will– I will meet you there, then." And with one last glance at Loki, he leaves.

Loki closes the door behind him and leans back against it, suddenly more angry with himself than with Thor. He had no reason to be so upset with his brother, and he can't even begin to fathom why or where the anger had come from. Especially after what his brother had said to him.

He sighs and resolves to apologize to him the next chance he gets.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys. Life has gotten extra busy lately (mostly work related stuff, and I was out of town briefly) so I haven't had as much time to work on this as I'd have liked. The first scene also gave be a lot of hang ups, and I changed pov about three different times before settling on this. The original version may be posted on tumblr later as a deleted scene, as I did like it, but unfortunately had to sacrifice it to make this work.

Loki is not sure what he was expecting when he finally met the Avengers, but what he finds waiting for him in the kitchen is definitely not it.

Thor had described them as protectors of the realm, and Loki had thought to perhaps find warriors of some kind, not the five astoundingly normal looking mortals he sees waiting for him instead. They all look up at his arrival, tense and silent, and right away Loki understands what his brother had meant when he said that the team may be wary of him.

Wary is an  _understatement_.

There is tension now, among the mortals, where there had not been before. Where they had, prior to his arrival, been lounging and relaxed and talking softly amongst themselves, there is silence now, and narrowed eyes, and a subtle aggression in their postures so much so that Loki can maybe see where his brother had been coming from in describing them as 'protectors of the realm.'

He clears his throat and looks between them, his eyes finally landing on the lone woman of the group, who appears to be loading a bag with an almost alarming number of weapons. She gives him a tight lipped smile that does nothing to put him at ease, and he finally looks to where his brother sits, next to her.

Thor beams at him from the table, rising to his feet. "Brother! It is good of you to finally join us." He appears to have all but forgotten Loki's earlier rudeness to him, and is more or less back to his usual self. Thor comes over to him, clapping him hard enough on the shoulder that he stumbles forward a step and very nearly loses his balance.

"Brother, please!" He hisses under his breath, casting a half-nervous glance at the gathered team, who continue to stare at the two of them with a myriad of expressions, and somehow, Loki has the distinct impression that he is unwanted here.

After another long moment of silence, one of the men detaches himself from the rest and strolls over, grinning.

"Tony Stark," he says, and Loki assumes that this must be the man's name. Tony stops in front of him, hand extended, and Loki stares at him blankly, unsure of what to do. The moment that follows is possibly as awkward as the prior silence, and Loki looks over the man's shoulder to where his brother now stands, watching and still grinning too big, but offering no real support.

At last, Loki takes the offered hand, unsure of what to do with it, and forces a small smile. "It is nice to meet you, Tony Stark." And even as he says it, he remembers something that the man he now knows to be called 'Fury' had said to him the night before. "Are you, perhaps, the namesake of this tower?"

Stark chuckles, pulling his hand away. "The one and only. You like it?"

Loki frowns. "I awoke in a cell," he tells him, "And I have since had little chance to familiarize myself with the place. I have only seen little of it so far."

"Yeah, sorry about that. You weren't exactly yourself when we brought you in–"

"So I have been told."

Stark's smile falters before returning full force. "Anyway, I'll give you the grand tour later or something if you're up for it."

Beside him, Thor shifts, awkwardly, and interrupts the brief pause that follows. "Anthony is the Man of Iron I spoke of last night, Loki," he tells him, and Loki stares at him, confused, because certainly his brother jests, or perhaps he has misheard him. The hand that he had shaken was flesh and bone, as much as his own, and surely this man can not actually be made of iron?

He opens his mouth to say as much, but Stark grins, cutting him off. "It's a nickname," he explains, "We've all got 'em. Part of the whole secret identity thing, you know? 'Course, mine's not exactly a secret anymore, but whatever. You get the gist of it." Then he glances over his shoulder to where the rest of the team is. "Come on guys, come say hi, he doesn't bite anymore."

Loki stares at him, bewildered at the turn of phrase. "I– Pardon me? Of course I do not  _bite_ , I am not an–"

Stark smirks, clearly amused, and Loki shuts his mouth quickly, realizing, belatedly, that this must be some sort of strange Midgardian phrase.

"Oh, this is  _great_. This is just perfect," Stark says, "Like Thor and Steve all over again." Loki has little chance to ponder on what he means by this, as the woman of the group chooses this moment to finally approach, followed closely by a man who had previously been perched on the counter.

She introduces herself as Natasha Romanoff, giving him a crooked smile that is as unnerving as the previous smile she had given him. Behind her, her companion makes no move to introduce himself, and merely stands looking over her shoulder at him with a scowl on his face. There is a brief moment that follows, when she looks over her shoulder at him, sharing with the man a look that Loki can not see, before introducing him as Clint Barton. He doesn't say a word after, and merely nods at him with a frown, leaving Loki to wonder if perhaps the man is just unfriendly or has something against him in particular.

He nods back, and then looks to the bag she has slung over her shoulder, just as she hefts it higher up. "Clint and I have a mission," she explains, and Loki has to remind himself that these people are warriors, despite outward appearances. Barton, at least, carries a bow, which he holds now in a white knuckled grip. So perhaps his first impression of this group had not been entirely accurate. Lady Romanoff, even, appears dressed for battle, weapons he does not recognized tucked into holsters at her sides.

"A mission?" he says, looking between them.

Barton steps forward. "Averting an international crisis, pretty much the usual, actually. And as much as we'd  _love_  to hang around, we really need to get going. We needed to have left twenty minutes ago, actually." Loki does not miss the sarcasm.

Natasha clears her throat. "Barton's rudeness aside, he is right, actually. We're running a bit late, so-"

"I am sorry that my late arrival has kept you from your mission, then, Lady Romanoff. My apologies."

She nods and, as she steps by, she drops a hand onto his shoulder and leans in slightly to whisper to him. "Little bit of advice, Loki.  _Don't_  call me 'lady.' I'd hate for you to have to learn the hard way like your brother." She pats his shoulder and then continues on her way, leaving Loki to stare after her wide eyed.

Tony grins beside him. "Don't worry. She's always like that."

Barton still lingers in front of him, looking him up and down with a strange expression on his face. "You really don't remember anything, do you?" he asks at last.

Loki looks back to him, not entirely sure what to say. "I do not."

"Great. That's great," Clint tells him, and it is part sarcasm and part honesty this time, but he looks considerably less defensive and on edge even as he says it. Still, Loki is taken aback by his words, and he looks briefly to his brother, who appears less than happy with what he has said to him.

"Have I, perhaps, done something to wrong you?" he asks, after an immensely awkward pause, and Barton gives him a huge grin.

"A whole list of somethings, actually," he says, "But no, this is much better, actually. I definitely prefer this."

Loki has no chance to ask him to elaborate on what he means, as Thor finally interrupts them.

"Are you not late for your mission, Clint? Should you not be joining Natasha?" He presses a heavy hand against Clint's arm and he is a towering presence standing behind him.

Clint sighs and shrugs him off, following in the direction that Natasha had left in. "Yeah, yeah," he says as he leaves, "I can take a hint. See you around, Loki." And with that he is gone as well, leaving Loki once again frustrated with his brother.

Thor is eager to keep the extent of what he has forgotten from him and Loki levels his brother with a glare. The god ignores him, gesturing for the two remaining strangers to join them.

"Steve Rogers," the taller one says, shaking his hand just as Stark had done, and Loki pushes his frustration aside, wondering, instead, at this peculiar Midgardian custom of touching hands so frequently. "And this is Bruce Banner." Steve indicates the man behind him, who gives him a small smile. He is quiet, as Barton was, but lacks, considerably, the defensive, angry posture he had possessed. It is a welcome change, he finds.

Still, there is an air of uneasiness about them, just as there was with everyone else.

"You hungry?" Stark asks, "We got cereal and ummm, I think we have some eggs as well." He moves to poke his head into a large white box that stands against the wall, and his brother explains to him, in a hushed voice, that it is a device for storing and keeping cold food. A 'refrigerator,' it is called. It hardly surprises him after the level of technology he has already witnessed since waking.

"Food would be nice," he says, and realizes that he does not know when he last ate, as he no longer remembers anything beyond the night before.

Stark barks for Steve to make them breakfast and almost immediately the two fall into mild bickering, and just like that, the tension in the room is gone.

Loki finally relaxes, and he hesitates only briefly before joining his brother where he has returned to his seat at the table.

Breakfast is made and, while he waits, his brother explains to him the different abilities of the team, and regales him, loudly, with tales of their triumphs. His brother is less than thorough in his explanations, and the others chime in, frequently, with their own version of things.

Eventually, after a plate of food has been set before him and mostly eaten, Bruce excuses himself politely.

"I have work to get to," he says apologetically as he goes, and Loki realizes, watching him go, that no one has spoke of what abilities he possesses, or what his role on the team even is.

He looks after him as he leaves, and Tony props his arm up on the table, following his gaze.

"Wondering about Bruce, huh?" he asks, and Loki nods without thinking. He catches himself and stops, looking back to Tony.

"I do not mean to be rude, but what purpose does he serve on this team? I have heard no mention of him in your tales."

Tony gives him a strange grin. "You have, actually. He's kind of– He's typically not exactly himself in battle," he tells him, "Not as you met him, I mean."

"And what is he, then, if not himself?"

"He is the Hulk," his brother supplies, just as Tony chips in with "An angry green rage monster."

"A monster." Loki echoes softly, his stomach churning at the word. He pushes his plate away, suddenly no longer hungry. "And you say he is not himself as this 'Hulk?'"

They explain it to him in turns, and by the end of it he is as confused as he was at the start. He is given all, 'what,' and, 'why,' but no 'how,' and he thinks perhaps it is a magic of some sort that could cause someone such as the man he has just met to change into something that is best described to him as large, angry, green and almost invulnerable.

"Not magic," Tony says, " _Science_. It was the result of a failed experiment."

And that makes even less sense. None of this quite resembles the product of science as he knows it on Asgard, and he frowns but nods along, and supposes that he will have to witness the transformation for himself to fully comprehend the magnitude of it.

"How peculiar," he murmurs, but he does not hear his own words. 'Monster,' still rings in his ears, above all his thoughts, and he stands abruptly, looking around at those who remain gathered at the table. Only Steve and Tony and himself and his brother, now. They all still stare at him strangely, his brother, in particular, watching him carefully, and he feels shaken and unnerved by the eyes on him.

"Is something the matter, brother?" Thor asks softly, and for a brief moment he forgets that anyone else is in the room, and it is just him and Thor and  _monster_. And then just as quickly he snaps from it, but the uneasiness is not gone.

"No, nothing," he says, and it is as close to the truth as he can get. There is  _nothing_  wrong, and yet– "If you would all excuse me, I think I will return to my room now." He nods at Steve as he turns to leave. "Thank you for breakfast."

And he leaves as quickly as he had come, thankful for the return of quiet and the familiarness of isolation as he returns to his room.

* * *

He is curled in a chair in the corner, reading by the light of a window, when his brother comes to him again. He announces himself through a knock at the door, as he had that morning, and Loki sighs and vanishes the book to where it had come from, calling for him to enter.

"Is there something you need, Thor?" he asks, as his brother steps into the room, and Thor looks at him with the same expression he had at breakfast.

"I merely wished to check on you, brother," he says softly, "Are you certain that everything is alright?"

He nods, but does not answer, regarding his brother as he stands, out of place, in the middle of the room. "Yes," he whispers, finally. "Yes, everything is fine.  _I_  am fine." The room falls silent in the wake of his words, and he looks idly down at his hands where they are folded lazily in his lap. Moments pass like this and, at last, his brother speaks again.

"I was banished." His brother's words are barely more than a murmur, and he thinks, for a moment, that he has misheard him. He looks up to find him perched on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing in particular, a spot on the wall, perhaps.

"Pardon?"

Thor moves his gaze to him. "You told me I had changed, but you do not know why," he tells him, "I was banished, cast out to Midgard to live as a mortal as punishment for my misdeeds."

"Misdeeds?" Loki thinks of his own past transgressions, those that he can remember, and of his own punishments, as well, but even he, the least favored son, had never been threatened with exile. "What did you do, Thor, that father would cast you out?"

Thor lifts his eyes to the ceiling, and Loki wonders, briefly, if Heimdall is watching them now. He looks up as well, the expression on his brother's face paining him. "I betrayed his trust," is all Thor says, and Loki does not push for details at the strained sound of his voice. He does continue eventually, though. "It is how I came to be on Midgard."

"And how you came to change," Loki supplies.

"Yes, I was made better through my experiences here. I did change."

It is not the long tale Thor had promised him, but it is something, and Loki nods, content for now with the explanation. Once again, though, his explanation has left only more questions than when he had started. "And are we still here for that reason, Thor? Do you remain because you are not welcome on Asgard any longer?"

"No, I have a place on Asgard, once more. My wrongs have been made right, and I have proven myself worthy of return."

"Then why are we here, Thor? On Midgard?" he asks at last.

"We are here to protect it," Thor tells him, and Loki eyes him warily.

"Yes, Thor, but  _why_. What does Midgard mean to you? Or to me? What do we owe this place and these people?" Even as he says it, he is aware that the unspoken parts of Thor's tale must somehow contain the answer to this, and he wonders what happened to Thor on Midgard that he would now value the place so.

All of it is a harsh reminder of how very  _different_  his brother now is.

Thor looks at him, and Loki meets his gaze. There is something there that he can not quite place, and he shifts in his chair, leaning forward. "Answer me, brother," he says, voice low, "Why are we  _here_?"

"You miss Asgard," Thor says instead, and it is not a question. There is no seque, he just _says_  it, and there is the understanding there that he has no answer to Loki's question, that there is nothing for him to say in response that Loki would accept.

He knows the heart of the matter and possibly he understands and Loki scowls at him, falling back into the cushions. "I do," he murmurs softly, more to himself than to his brother, and he does not _want_  to. His mind screams at him _no_  and even thinking of home aches in a way that does not quite speak of homesickness so much as it does uneasiness and anger. And he does not understand, and he knows of no way to voice this that would make Thor understand, so he continues instead. "I do not know of the changes that have occurred there, I do not  _remember_ , but I do miss Asgard. I long for home, and for Mother and Father."

It occurs to him, as he says this, that he does not long for home so much as he longs for the comfort and the familiarity. He wishes for home so as to be away from this place, and the people he has met who welcome him with strange looks and false cheer and smiles.

He is not welcome in this place. Somehow he knows this deep inside, and it burns.

And  _Father_. That is another word that now burns his tongue, that incites anger and hostility, and he bites back the feeling, watching his brother carefully, and pushes the thoughts from his mind.

"I am sorry," Thor says, and Loki has to fight back, also, the urge to strike him.

"Leave," he tells him, and he finds he no longer cares about his own rudeness, "I wish to be alone."

Thor stands. "I understand, brother," he whispers, and with one last glance at him, he leaves him alone to his thoughts. And that he should be so cruel to his brother, repeatedly, even after his time spent helping him adjust to this place and the kindness he has shown him, dominates those thoughts, and he rises angrily. Angry at himself and at his brother for nothing other than his understandable desire to be near him, and angry at his misfortune to have lost so much of himself in losing his memory.

He curses everything around him, and, most of all, this place.

He makes himself scarce for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony had intended to spend the day finally doing those repairs on his suit but, between board meetings and paperwork, and Pepper at his elbow talking stock prices and spending, and ' _no, Tony, I can't just forge your signature_ ,' and  _'don't forget that meeting next Tuesday, I've rescheduled it three times already, you can't miss this- Tony, are you even listening?'_ it's almost dark before he gets more than a spare ten or fifteen minutes to do  _anything_.

He takes a detour through the kitchen, intent on highly caffeinated coffee, and maybe, while he's at it, finding his tablet that he'd abandoned in the living room sometime earlier that day when Pepper had first shown up.

It's his first moment free since that morning, and he relishes it as he makes his coffee, leaning back against the counter and just enjoying the smell and the sound of the coffee pot whirring to life. And then the moment passes, as he really ought to get on finding his tablet, and he sighs and heads into the living room.

It doesn't take too long to find it, luckily, and he's in the middle of pulling it out from where it's wedged between a cushion and the side of the sofa, when he notices he's not alone.

Loki stands across the room, back turned to him, staring out of the floor to ceiling window there. It's a beautiful view just past him, through that window; Tony knows because he had it installed there for that very reason, and he hesitates only a moment before stepping up beside him.

"Enjoying the view?" he asks, looking out across the sunset, which is only partially visible beyond the buildings and the not quite western direction the window faces.

He nods slowly, a barely noticeable motion of his head to Tony's right, and Tony glances over at him, again confused and appalled by the differences he finds.

He looks younger, the lines of his face smoother, as if the years he can not remember have dropped from him as well, and Tony wonders what he has forgotten that weighed on him so much that he would look as he once did (troubled and angry and hateful.) The expression he wears now- almost contemplative as he studies the sky and the buildings that are no doubt unfamiliar to him- is a far cry from the psychotic grins, and evil grimaces, and angry scowls he is so used to.

He's in his armor once again, all straight lines and broad shoulders, a sharp contrast to the way he had looked that morning in jeans and a t-shirt. And that had been a sight to see, actually.

Loki clears his throat and Tony lifts his gaze to meet his eyes. "Is there something you need?" the god asks in a clipped, almost impatient tone, and Tony huffs, because of course he didn't change  _completely_ when he lost his memories. There's still got to be a bit of the off-kilter, angry god he's familiar with beneath the surface.

A thought occurs to him and he grins, catching Loki by the elbow. "Yes, actually. Come with me." Loki looks affronted at the touch, and shrugs his arm away, but follows him into the kitchen. "I want to show you something."

"You wish to show me the kitchen?" Loki asks, looking around, and Tony blinks at him, confused.

"What? Oh, no," he says, busying himself with making his coffee. "Just taking a quick detour." He gestures at him with his now steaming mug, smirking. "For coffee. Want some?"

Loki watches him carefully and, finally, steps over, studying the drink. "This is the coffee that I have heard my brother speak of?"

"Sure is. He loves the stuff." Tony pushes the mug into Loki's hands. "Try it. Careful, though, it's hot."

"I noticed," he says dryly, staring down into the dark liquid. He holds the cup delicately, as if it has personally offended him, and Tony chuckles at his expression. Finally, after too long a pause, he takes a sip.

"You like it?"

Tony has to fight back another peal of laughter as Loki makes a face that is, quite frankly, absolutely priceless. "No, not in the least." He hands the cup back over, and Tony takes his own long sip from it. "And you say my brother  _enjoys_ this drink?"

He nods and pushes away from the counter. "Lots of people do, actually. To each his own, I guess," he tells him, heading for the door, "Anyway, follow me. What I want to show you is up in my workshop. Or down rather.  _Down_ in my workshop."

"Is it?" Loki asks, following him to the elevator, where he stands in the corner, running his fingers along the cool steel of the walls, and Tony wonders if they have anything similar to elevators back in Asgard. Probably not, judging from Thor's initial reaction in one, and now Loki's rather strange exploration of it. Tony opens his mouth to ask, but Loki continues. "And what is it you wish to show me, Stark?"

He is watching him now, expectantly, green eyes narrowed and curious, and Tony focuses his attention on the numbers over the door as they light their path downward. "As funny as your reaction to 'Iron Man' was this morning, I thought I'd show you  _why_ they call me that," he explains.

Loki frowns thoughtfully, following his gaze to the numbers, and moves to stand directly beside him. "My brother said, this morning, that it was some manner of battle armor that you wear?"

Tony nods and,  _yeah_ , he isn't sure he's ever going to get used to hearing Loki call Thor 'brother.' It was weird enough seeing them talk civilly with each other.

"Yep," he says, "Something like that. I doubt it's the kind of armor you're thinking of, though." He leads Loki out of the elevator when it finally opens, and to the heavily secured doors that lead to his workshop. Loki waits, almost patiently, as Tony puts in the security passcode and Jarvis confirms his identity and allows them entry.

Loki steps in after him, eyes wide and curiosity peaked at the technology around him, and taking him into his workshop may very well have been a bad idea, Tony thinks. At least he's considerably less likely to break things than Thor.

He looks around, lips pursed and face soft and open in his curiosity, and his expression now has nothing on the one he wore in the elevator. "This is your workshop?" he asks softly, running his fingers across a monitor. " _Fascinating_."

"Isn't it?" He heads over to where his suit is loosely assembled near the middle of the room, and it's the first real look he's gotten at it since he'd removed it the night before and had Jarvis send it down for repairs. It's not in as bad a shape as he'd feared, and he circles it, studying the more problematic places. When he finally finishes and looks up again, Loki is standing in his personal space bubble, and he jumps, startled. The god takes no notice.

" _This_  is your armor?" he asks, and there is something akin to awe in his voice, and Tony  _almost_  beams at that. "This is magnificent.  _Beautiful_." The suit is assembled as if Tony were about to step into it at any moment, all gaps and openings and separations at the joints, technology and wires and circuitry all on display, and Loki crouches low to run his fingers over the back curve of one of the legs, where the details are particularly intricate. "And you made this all yourself?"

"I did," Tony tells him, dropping down to his height, "I take it you're impressed?"

Loki nods. "Very much so," he murmurs, pulling his hand away. "We have many technologies on Asgard, and many forms of magic, but I have not seen something quite like this before. It brings to mind the Destroyer, but even that pales in comparison to this."

Tony snorts, recalling the footage he's seen of said 'Destroyer.' "That bulky scrap heap has  _nothing_  on my tech," he tells him, straightening, "Although, it  _does_ shoot fiery beams of death. Now there's a thought–"

"You know of the Destroyer?"

He looks down at Loki, realizing his mistake. Of course Loki doesn't remember the Destroyer's little adventure in New Mexico, and of course he especially doesn't remember his role in it. "Uhh, yeah. Kinda. A  _teensy_ bit?" Loki levels him with a confused look, and Tony runs a hand through his hair, looking away. "It kinda took a trip down to Earth about a year back, wreaked a bunch of havoc and stuff. Did a good job of living up to its name, actually."

"The Destroyer should not have been on Midgard," Loki murmurs, almost to himself. "Not without my father's instruction."

Tony shrugs and does his best to act like he hasn't read the entire Shield file on this. "Someone else got hold of it, apparently," he tells him. "I don't know all of the details, so I can't really tell you anymore than that."

He turns to a monitor to his left, and hopes that maybe, if he focuses all of his attention on it, this conversation will be over. He is lying to the God of Lies, and it just feels like an all around bad idea to try and do it on the spot like this.

There is a soft noise of understanding behind him, and then movement, a distinct shift of cloth, and Tony spares just a glance to see Loki now standing, his attention has been caught, apparently, by something else on the suit.

"What caused this?" The god asks suddenly, and Tony frowns, looking to where his fingers now skirt the edges of the damage to the back of the suit.

"You did," he says, sliding his fingers across the monitor and blowing up the image there. It's a rough blueprint of his suit, complete with a diagnostic scan courtesy of Jarvis, and he maneuvers it to get a better look at the portion Loki has just indicated.

Loki's expression is unreadable when Tony finally turns back to him, and he purses his lips, wondering if, perhaps, it was a good idea to be honest about that. The whole 'being as honest with him as possible' thing is only going to go so far when he starts asking the hard questions, as Tony has just seen in regards to the Destroyer.

After a moment, his face smoothes back into something resembling baffled hesitation, and he slides his hand across the chipped paint along the damage as if maybe trying to picture the forgotten memory of causing it. And seeing Loki's general discomfort only spurs Tony into saying something else stupid.

"You really don't remember, do you?" he asks, and promptly winces at his own question. Of  _course_ he doesn't remember. The team had spent a good long while coming to that conclusion, and he's already seen for himself and-

"No." Loki interrupts his thoughts with the single, curt word, dropping his hand back down to his side. There is something almost haunting in the slump of his shoulders as he finally steps back from the suit, and Tony feels even worse for so blatantly reminding him of his memory loss.

Tony steps forward, about to try and offer some kind of apology, or maybe some rather lame words of comfort, when Loki levels him with a strange look and speaks again. "If I asked you, Anthony Stark, would you tell me what it is that I have done to make you and your team mistrust me so?" He moves closer, right into his personal space, and Tony has to fight the reflex to step back and away.

And he doesn't know what to  _say_ , how to even begin going about answering that. Different things come to mind; 'We don't  _mistrust_ you, per say' (blatant lie,) or maybe 'nothing you've done is that bad, really' (another lie.)

He finally settles on, "Are you asking?" because he can't answer that with a 'yes' or a 'no,' but at least he can give him a witty comeback. Witty comebacks are kinda his  _thing_ , anyway.

And then there is awkward silence, and Loki's rather intimidating, green eyes staring down at him, and Tony thinks maybe he's said the wrong thing again.

Loki smiles, at last, and shakes his head. "No," he murmurs, even as he turns away. "Another time, perhaps."

And Tony just nods, wondering how he managed to dodge  _that_ bullet.

"Thank you," Loki continues, "For showing me your armor. It is, indeed, a wondrous piece of technology." He gestures to the suit as he moves across the room and somehow, Tony has to grin at that.

"You're going to make me blush!" He calls to him, and there is a soft chuckle in response that is barely audible over the sound of the door sliding open. And because he can, and because the tower is kind of a maze, he adds, "Can you find your way back to your room alright?"

Loki only gives him a nod in response, and then he sweeps from the room, and Tony can't help but to laugh because suddenly he is, once more, the very picture of the prince he is supposed to be, such a contrast to Thor in the way he moves and holds himself.

He gives Tony a final glance and then the door closes behind him, and Tony is left laughing alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late but longer update. Sorry guys, things have finally settled down so hopefully I can get faster updates out starting now.
> 
> Beta’d by [Ricechex!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricechex) <3!  
> oh and my blog changed, I am now cooltitsmelon on tumblr wooo!

Sleep eludes him later that night, and Loki manages an hour, perhaps two, of fitful rest before he jolts awake in a cold sweat to find darkness still surrounding him, just as it had in his dream. Only, within the confines of his nightmare, he had been falling through the darkness, plummeting endlessly through a void, and everywhere around him there had been _nothingness_.

His brother's words come to him. "You fell," he had said, "You fell from the bifrost and we knew not what became of you after, but–"

He _fell_. He had fallen and fallen and  _fallen_ , was what had become of him.

He curls his fists into the sheets and draws in a ragged breath and hopes that the dream was false, that it was just an embodiment of his brother's words and not the truth of the matter. He cannot remember, he reminds himself, and these dreams are surely nothing more than false memories born from the vague explanations he has been given.

Slowly, wary of the darkness around him in light of the contents of his dream, he pulls himself from the bed. Sleep is likely to escape him now, and he resigns himself to no further rest.

The entire floor is quiet and dark, save for the harsh sounds of snoring Loki hears as he steps past Thor's room. He smiles at the noise, familiar and normal, despite the change he has seen in his brother. Even now, the god still snores like the very thunder he is so fond of producing.

He is, at rest, more like the brother he remembers.

Loki pauses just outside of his door and considers waking him. His company, he thinks, would be a welcome addition after his troubled sleep. Like when they were children, and Loki would go to him when he had nightmares, and then the two of them would sit out on the terrace, looking out across the Bifrost for countless hours until their mother showed up to usher them back to bed.

Even now, with all that has happened and all that he can not remember, he can look back on such a time with something very near fondness, and he can almost bring himself to quell the borderline resentment that comes to the surface when thoughts of his brother appear. It is yet another thing that is confusing and left unanswered, and he tells himself– no,  _lies to himself,_  for he is a master of lies and he knows when he is lying, even when it is to no one but himself– that it is but a side effect of the control he can not remember, of whatever made him turn against his brother and his own people. These feelings are not his own, but someone else's left over within him, amidst the chaos of what lies there now.

He has to stop himself from waking his brother, even as his hand is poised to knock. They are children no longer, and things are not as they were, and Loki decides, quite quickly, that he would rather be alone now than in the company of his brother, changed as he is.

After such a dream, he could do without another reminder of what has happened.

He makes his way to the living room instead, moving quietly. It is not so much out of concern at waking Thor, but more because he does not wish to break the peaceful silence that has fallen with the nighttime hours. There is something calming and beautiful about the night, and even if he can not find peace in sleep, he can have it now, while everyone else rests.

He gravitates, as he had earlier that night, to the large window of the room, attracted to the view. Beyond, the lights of the city shine and glitter against the night sky, and in turn that light reflects into the otherwise dark room.

It is a beautiful city, he thinks. But it is not Asgard. Even though the buildings here reach to the heavens and the lights shine bright, it is  _nothing_  like Asgard. And yet he still looks at it and thinks of home, thinks of the view from the terrace he and Thor had been so fond of as children, with it's perfect view of the waters and the bifrost, and beyond that, starry skies that stretched for as far as the eye can see.

He curls himself into the corner of the sofa, where he can still see through the window, and he stays there until morning, lost in his thoughts, until the final touches of sunlight make their way past the horizon and Thor finally wakes and ventures from his room.

 

*

 

The weekend comes and goes and Tony spends it in his lab, working away on his suit and then various other projects, distractions mostly, distractions from the more prominent projects and concerns, but something interesting to do, none the less, and it is late Sunday evening before Bruce shows up to drag him back to the real world, with a fresh cup of coffee in hand and the promise of Steve's rather amazing spaghetti waiting for them in the kitchen.

Clint and Natasha are still gone, Bruce tells him as they head down, and Tony, in a sleepy daze, only half listens to what else he has to say as he nurses his drink close. Something about Thor, and being concerned, and he nods at the appropriate places and tries his best not to yawn.

Still tired and distracted by food, he completely forgets about their new houseguest, and maybe it's a good thing Loki _isn't_ there when he walks into the kitchen because he probably would have been caught off guard. As it is, he doesn't remember until he's in the middle of piling spaghetti onto his plate and he happens to look over at Thor, who sits eating quietly when usually he is the most boisterous one at the dinner table.

"So where's our new favorite Norse God?" Tony asks, and he chances another glances over at Thor, who looks more than a little ridiculous with pasta hanging from his mouth. Tony would think he'd never had spaghetti before with how much he struggles to eat it, but Steve makes it almost every week, so he knows that isn't so.

Thor swallows down his food and wipes sauce from his beard and Tony tries his best not to make a face at the sight. Perhaps the mention of his brother has killed his appetite, or maybe he's only halfway through his  _second_ helping (which is definitely likely), Tony isn't sure, but Thor pushes his plate away, looking thoughtful. "He is in his room. He did not wish to join us," he tells him.

Tony isn't actually all that surprised by the news, and he shrugs as he takes a seat next to the god. Still, he feels he should say something, so he manages a, "Huh," around a mouthful of food.

"Then why are we doing this?"

Tony looks up at the soft voice and finds that it is, surprisingly, Bruce who has spoken. He sits, now, next to Steve, in Clint's usual seat, looking across the table at them, at Tony as well as Thor as if he might also have an answer to that question.

Thor lifts his gaze to the doctor, and the man leans forward, speaking again.

"He doesn't want to be here, Thor," Bruce tells him, "And–"  _we don't want him here_ , Tony thinks must be on the tip of his tongue, on all of their minds, his thoughts fill in the awkward pause that easily, but the words are never said as Bruce continues _–_ "None of us have seen him since that first morning, and that much is still obvious. You just said as much yourself, even."

"I will not have him sent to Asgard," Thor says, his posture defensive, and he sounds almost like a broken record with how many times they have heard him say this since Thursday night, "I do not understand why–"

Tony rushes to cut him off, not wishing for a repeat of their late night discussion from earlier that week, and suddenly realizing why he should have been listening to Bruce on the way down to dinner. "Calm down, buddy, we're not asking you to take him back to Asgard," he says quickly, looking hesitantly to Bruce and Steve. "Right, guys?"

He suspects, from the glance they share, that they've been rehearsing this, and, looking at them, Tony isn't so certain they're about to agree with him. Steve looks almost guilty, even, when he looks back to Thor but, after a moment, he confirms what Tony has just said. "We aren't asking you to send him back to Asgard." Steve sounds almost defeated when he says it, but Tony can't believe for a second that they don't mean it. Changing Thor's mind is pretty much an option that has been off the table since the initial debriefing.

Thor's jaw clenches and his hand tightens into a fist around his fork and Tony decides, as awkward silence falls over the table following Steve's comment, that he  _really_  doesn't want to be part of the conversation that is about to follow. He isn't entirely sure what Bruce and Steve are cornering Thor for, outside of maybe being concerned for him, but he wasn't invited to the dress rehearsal and he wants no part of it.

He stands, and the sound of his chair scraping across the floor is loud amongst the silence, and it almost makes the moment somehow all the more awkward. Everyone looks at him, even Thor, whose eyes are narrowed as if realizing Tony is about to leave him alone with Steve and Bruce and a conversation none of them probably want to have.

Tony clears his throat.

"So, uhh– Someone should maybe take Loki his dinner," he says, and again everyone does nothing more than stare at him. He grumbles under his breath and sighs when he gets no response. "I guess I'll just go do that then. Since there are no other volunteers." Awesome, he has an out now.

An out with an amnesiac super villain who Tony is partially convinced has skipped dinner so that he can sit in his room and plot evil instead.

It takes him only a moment to load up another plate with food and grab up his own, and behind him Steve and Bruce finally continue.

"We're only concerned, Thor. About this situation, about you–" And woah, Tony is mega glad he's ditching this. They're trying to discuss feelings and shit.

He tries his best to filter it out, not wanting to be dragged back into the conversation, and he thumps Thor's shoulder with his elbow as he finally heads back through the room, effectively interrupting them all as Thor completely ignores the other two seated at the table in order to look at him.

"Thor, big guy, just tell them what you told me. Give 'em some perspective or something." He says, and at Thor's nod he high tails it from the room. He somehow manages to shoot him a quick thumbs up as he leaves, even with his hands full.

 

*

 

Loki is reading again, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, comfortable and content now to be alone, when the knock on his door comes. He sighs and drags his eyes to the door and thinks, perhaps, it is Thor, come again to talk him into joining the team for dinner. He gestures at it and, with his magic, opens it.

Tony Stark stands on the other side, and Loki frowns as he steps in with the invitation of the now open door.

"I brought you dinner," he says, kicking the door closed behind him. "Because someone didn't want to join us."

"I was not hungry," Loki tells him, eyeing the food that has been brought to him. Tony snorts and drops to the floor beside him, setting one of the plates down between them.

"Is that so? Because a little birdie told me you haven't left this room all weekend, and if you haven't left then you clearly haven't been eating _–"_

"I am a god. I do not require sustenance as often as a mortal," Loki tells him, returning his gaze to his book but not reading the words, "You need not concern yourself with my eating habits."

Tony grins too big, taking a bite of his dinner. "Huh, because the way Thor eats has me thinking differently, I mean, I'm pretty sure he eats his body weight in food some days _–"_

"I am not my brother," Loki snaps, and Tony's grin falters even as he keeps eating. Loki sets his book aside and, for lack of anything else to do with his hands and his sudden anger, he snatches up the plate Tony brought him. "What is this," he asks, voice still clipped.

"Spaghetti," Tony tells him, as if Loki has not just snapped at him.

Loki takes a hesitant bite and decides he likes it, and as he finally begins to eats he murmurs a quiet 'thank you' that he is not entirely certain Tony hears.

And maybe he does, or maybe he doesn't, but when he speaks again, it is about something else entirely. "So why are you avoiding everyone?" he asks, straight to the point, and Loki looks over at him to find his eyes on him.

"I am avoiding no one," he tells him, and he is not. He has no reason to avoid the team, he has nothing against them. But he wishes to be alone, and so maybe in that regard he has avoided company, has kept to himself. He is struggling to adjust, to this world and to this place and to the lies that he has been told. He is still alarmed by his own reflection when he sees it, and to his brother's heavily changed personality, and so he thinks perhaps it best to isolate himself until he can come to terms with this and the things around him.

And because he decides his response was not explanation enough, he adds. "I merely wish to be alone."

"All the time?" Tony questions, setting his empty plate aside, and Loki furrows his brow, and thinks  _yes_ ,  _all the time_. It is familiar, it is as it was on Asgard, as he remembers it. And yet that is not the reason, and he tells him as much, though he does not know how to explain himself this time.

"It is not that," he begins softly, playing with his food more than eating it now, and he had not lied when he said he was not hungry. "I do not wish to avoid everyone, just–" Just Thor, but he leaves it at that and does not say so.

And so he has lied again. He is avoiding someone, though doing a very poor job of it.

He has no desire to spend more time with Thor, and yet he does, and yet he is forced to share a floor with him, and to see him every time he comes to check on him (every day, every few hours,) because Thor is his brother and he  _cares_  though Loki knows he does not deserve it. Knows it even if he does not remember why. Can see it in the way Thor looks at him, and speaks to him, trying too hard at every moment to make him understand that he still  _cares_.

"This is about Thor," Tony says, reading his mind, or maybe guessing, realizing from the way his eyes darken that he is thinking of his brother . And when no immediate response comes, for Loki does not know how to respond to that, he ventures another guess, more hesitant. "Or the team? You can't really blame us, you know, for being distant, and we barely know you, you've hardly given us the chance to–"

Tony falls silent with a look from Loki, but only for a moment. The man talks a lot, Loki can tell, and even though he wishes for silence right now he can not say that it overly bothers him.

"Was it what Clint said? Because let me tell you, Clint can be kinda _–"_

And again Loki has to stop him, but this time he speaks when he does. "Barton's words do not bother me," he tells him, and it is only partially true because he  _is_ bothered, but only in that he wants to know  _why._  "I am not so easily offended as to concern myself with such a thing."

They fall silent and Loki thinks that he should tell him. He was closer than he probably realizes with his suggestion that it is Thor that is bothering him, that keeps him closed up in his room, and Loki longs to open up to someone, maybe in hopes that speaking his thoughts will finally drive them away. He studies Tony, who sits next to him, head tilted back, eyes closed, and unmistakably awake but patient, waiting for any answer that Loki chooses to give him.

And why not? Tony has approached him when the others did not, when the others kept a hesitant distance. He has spoken to him almost candidly, as he is now and not with concern for how he was, without the strange awkward words that the others had used, not overly cautious and too careful with his words. It is nice, and he thinks he could quite possibly speak honestly with this man.

And he does.

"You are correct in thinking that I am avoiding someone," he admits, and pushes his plate aside, what little appetite he had gone.

Tony perks up slightly, looking at him again. "Is it Clint?" he asks, and Loki is more than a little annoyed with how quickly he jumps from one thing to another. "Because Clint is still–"

"No," he says firmly, "I have already said that he is of no concern to me. It is my brother I speak of."

Tony seems surprised at the revelation, and he raises an eyebrow. "Thor?"

"Yes. He is changed," Loki continues, "He is not the brother I remember, and so it is  _difficult_  for me."

"Changed," Tony echoes, for no real reason, and Loki wonders perhaps if he had not known Thor before, and then remembers that no, he mostly likely had not, that this change occurred from Thor's experiences on Midgard, with these people.

"You did not know him before," Loki murmurs, and he does not know if he is asking or stating, but Tony shakes his head and confirms what he had thought. "He was brash and harsh," Loki continues, "And flawed. We did not see eye to eye most of the time, but he was my brother."

Tony frowns and settles back more comfortably against the bed. "And he isn't now?"

"No, he is. He is and will always be my brother, but he is also all that I have left now, of before, of Asgard, of what I can remember." Loki forces a pause, and realizes he is still at a loss as to how to make Tony understand, and yet still he thinks he should try if Tony is willing to sit and listen. "But he is not the Thor from my memories, and so it is hard for me, to see him every day and to know that this is what I have missed,  _this_ is what I have forgotten."

Tony nods.

"And so you see," Loki says, "To see my brother as he is now is a reminder that I do not need, not with so many other things plaguing my thoughts."

"I understand," Tony tells him, "That makes a lot of sense actually. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You need not be, it is not your fault."

"Well, actually," Tony starts, and there is an awkward pause as he leans forward, gesturing with no real purpose. "Okay, so it happened like this, right. You were on a building, and you made all these clones that were attacking us, and so Thor said, 'find the real one' and so I found you and uhh, I kinda blasted you off the building."

Loki stares at him, completely lost and unsure what he is trying to say. At his blank look, Tony continues.

"Right, so what I'm saying it that this is my fault,  _technically_. We think the fall and subsequent hit on the head maybe caused the memory loss, or something like that," and then, almost as an afterthought, "And also stopped the mind control, that too."

"I do not see a reason to blame you for such a thing," Loki says at last, turning the information over in his head, and it is yet another confusing fragment to add to what he knows so far about what had happened to him, "If what Barton said is to be believed, then perhaps this is for the best anyway."

Tony rolls his eyes. "No, no listen, what Clint said– He can kinda be an asshole sometimes, and well, he kinda never liked you anyway, so don't take that personally or anything–"

"No, it is alright. As I said, I am not so easily offended or concerned over such trivial things."

"Yeah, but you just said–"

"I only mean that it is better, that whatever control was over me is gone and I am myself again," he explains. "Or as close to myself as I can be. And so he is right in that way, this is for the better."

Tony frowns, eyebrows drawn close in thought. "If that's what you think, then yeah. I guess." He stands, picking up his plate as he does so. "I'll leave you be now, since you clearly have a lot on your mind."

Loki nods. "Thank you again," he says, gesturing to his still mostly full plate, "For dinner." And for listening, he does not add, but he thinks Tony picks up on that.

"You're welcome. And listen, Loki?"

"Hmm?"

"Join us next time, for breakfast tomorrow or something. We're  _are_ trying here, y'know?" And again Loki nods, because yes, if this team is willing to give him a chance then he should extend the same to them.

Tony starts for the door, but pauses just as he opens it. "And if you, I don't know, want to talk again or finally decide to stop being anti social or whatever, I'm always around. For talking and company and stuff. You're not half bad to be around." And he grins again, as he had before, and Loki manages to give him one in return, even if he still does not completely feel it.

 

*

 

And when Tony goes down to breakfast the next morning, Loki is there.


	6. Chapter 6

It’s sometime later the next day, maybe late evening, Tony isn’t sure, when he corners Bruce as he’s puttering around in one of the R and D labs, putting the final touches on something he’s working on for Stark Industries, or maybe for S.H.I.E.L.D, Tony can’t really keep track anymore. And maybe corner isn’t the best word, as Tony strolls in, drops into the chair Bruce had previously been occupying, and starts talking without preamble. Maybe, ‘bombard,’ would be a better word.  
  
He’s in the middle of a sentence, explaining to him some of the new suit modifications he has in mind, that he might or might not want help on, when he glances over at Bruce and Bruce meets his eyes from over the beaker he’s holding (now empty, so he’s likely in the middle of cleaning up) and Tony thinks, _huh, I wonder what he was working on._ Because likely he’s been at it all day if he’s still in the lab this late.  
  
And really, it’s not _that_ late, just after sunset, Tony thinks, but they didn’t have a team dinner or anything tonight, so he can’t be too certain. If he isn’t eating regularly with the team, or looking directly at a clock, he usually isn’t keeping track. And that usually means he’s in his own lab, not sleeping _or_ eating, and not paying a lick of attention to the clock he actually _does_ have in there (at Pepper’s insistence more than anything; he’d have thrown it out otherwise.)  
  
And as it is, he hasn’t been in his lab at all today, has mostly just spent it avoiding Pepper and doing more work when she found him anyway, and he’s pretty certain there were at least two far too long conference calls squeezed in there somewhere, and after it all he’d fallen asleep and slept his evening away.  
  
(So maybe there was a team dinner tonight, maybe he just slept through it.)  
  
Bruce clears his throat and pulls him from his thoughts and Tony realizes he had just cut off in the middle of what he was saying and not said anything else, so he continues with what he had originally stopped to say instead.  
  
“Whatcha working on?” he asks, and then doesn’t wait for Bruce to answer, simply snatches up the notebook Bruce has just set down and flips it open. Something involving DNA and medical terms and it looks far too boring to really start a conversation about so he drops the notebook back onto the desk without a word.  
  
Bruce looks at him with an expression of limited patience and picks it right back up. “Do you need something, Tony?”  
  
Tony sighs and settles into the chair and decides he should just get to the point then. “Yesterday?” And Bruce knows what he means and there’s no need for explanation, except on his part, which is what Tony’s here for.  
  
Bruce leans against the desk and does that thing he does, where he pushes up his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Yesterday,” he begins, “Could have gone a lot smoother, so thank you for that, Tony.”  
  
Tony grins. “You’re welcome.” And then an awkward second passes and Tony realizes what that was. “That was sarcasm, right?”  
  
“It was.” And Bruce now has the notebook open and is writing in it, probably jotting down a quick thought or maybe trying to quickly finish what Tony had clearly interrupted.  
  
“Well, you suck at it,” Tony tells him and, because he hates being ignored; and because he clearly has no self preservation, he pulls the notebook straight out of Bruce’s hands without warning, even as the man is mid-writing with his pen. A nice, scratchy ink line now crosses the page, and Tony looks at it and realizes just how freaking stupid that was, all things considered.  
  
He chances a hesitant look at Bruce who looks totally fine and only a little put out, and he manages to offer him a weak grin. Bruce just stares back at him. “Fine,” he says, “We can talk.”  
  
“Good,” Tony says, and, he thinks, he’s been doing an awful lot of talking lately. “ _Good_ ,” he says again. “Because that’s what I’m here for. So–”  
  
“So?”  
  
Tony pauses, for effect, of course, and totally not because he’s struggling to find the words he wants, and he tosses down the notebook in order to reach forward and pick up Bruce’s abandoned pen, simply to have something better to do with his hands. He spins it back and forth between his fingers, considering Bruce for a moment. “Were you actually trying to talk Thor into taking Loki back to Asgard?” he asks at last.  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“Is it so hard to believe?” Bruce asks,  “We did all agree and–”  
  
“No, I believe it, just–” And Tony stops there, looking down at the pen in his hands, as if it might somehow tell him the words he needs to say next. He fumbles it as he moves it between his fingers once more, and it falls, clatters to the floor, the noise somehow louder in the silence, and Tony promptly leans back and pretends that didn’t just happen. When he looks back at Bruce, the man is poorly suppressing a grin, and just like that the potentially awkward moment is passed, so Tony forges ahead.  
  
“Ok, listen,” he continues, “I can’t say I would blame you _or_ Steve if you changed your minds on this. I mean, this is hardly the best decision the team has ever made–” Tony looks carefully at Bruce, who shakes his head, his body now relaxed beside him, the tense lines of his jaw and face finally smoothed out. “Alright, well, it did look like it was heading in that direction when I left–”  
  
Bruce shrugs. “Tony, you left before it could really head in _any_ direction,” he points out.  
  
“Yes, but I left to go take Loki dinner, so–”  
  
“And how did that go, by the way?” And Bruce looks genuinely curious, no trace of sarcasm in his features.  
  
“It went well enough,” he tells him. “I mean, he did show up for breakfast this morning.” And Loki had, though he had sat away from the team, head in a book. But he had eaten, which was good, as Tony was pretty certain he hadn’t eaten all weekend outside of the dinner he had brought him Sunday night.  
  
Bruce looks thoughtful at that. “That was you?”  
  
Tony nods. “It was, he and I had a bit of a talk.” He pauses and there is a second where he realizes that Bruce has changed the subject, and perhaps not entirely by accident. Or maybe it is unintentional, you can never be sure with Bruce, just like with the sarcasm thing.  
  
“You,” he says, pointing, “changed the subject.”  
  
“Did I?”  
  
Tony ‘hmphs’ and crosses his arms. “You did. We’re supposed to be talking.”  
  
“We are talking.”  
  
“Yes, but we’re supposed to be _talking talking_.”  
  
“Talking _talking_?” Bruce echoes, mouth twisted into a smile. “We _are_ talking _talking_ –”  
  
Tony waves his hand through the air, cutting him off. “Okay okay, talking about _yesterday_ I mean, smartass.” He says it with a grin, and Bruce chuckles.  
  
“ _Yesterday,_ I tried to talk to you, remember? I tried to tell you when I came and got you for dinner–”  
  
“Did you really?” Tony blinks at him and, yes, he totally remembers that, only he doesn’t really. Just remember’s Bruce talking _at_ him as he followed in a tired daze, not listening.  
  
Bruce leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, sighing. “Yes.”  
  
“Oh, well, you know–”  
  
Bruce nods. “I do.” There’s silence for a moment, in which Tony follows his gaze to the ceiling, to the rough, cobbled texture in the tiles there, and he thinks that maybe this conversation is doomed to go nowhere, and maybe he should leave Bruce to finish up what he was doing instead of hassling him. And then Bruce speaks again, and Tony looks at him to find him already staring back at him.  
  
“We’re worried about Thor,” he says.  
  
“We are?”  
  
Bruce gives him a _look_ and Tony manages to look as innocent as possible. “Alright, so obviously not _you_ , Tony,” he begins again, “but Steve and I– You haven’t really been around this weekend, you haven’t seen him, Thor has been so–”  
  
“Quiet?” Tony tries, recalling the god’s strange silence at dinner the night before, and how he’d looked at the mention of his brother.  
  
“You noticed?”  
  
“It wasn’t all that hard to.”  
  
Thor is boisterous and loud and the light of every moment, and Tony is not sure if that is a god thing or a Thor thing, but either way, Thor not acting like Thor is a thing people notice. Like quiet, contemplative Thor approaching him at three in the morning to talk about _feelings_.  
  
“So we’re worried about Thor?” he confirms, leaning forward. “And–?”  
  
“And we talked, and it went well, and now we’re less worried about Thor.”  
  
“Good, that’s good. And Loki?”  
  
Bruce shrugs. “Personally? I, well– It’s _Loki_. So–” Tony arches an eyebrow at his pause and Bruce sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I could be sleeping better at night, maybe,” he continues, “But no, no real problem here. And what about you? You’ve spoken to him already more than the rest of us.”  
  
Tony frowns, recalling his several conversations with Loki. “It’s– It’s been interesting so far. I’m mostly just taking it one day at a time.” And for the sake of clarifying his thoughts, Tony adds, “He’s different. Now.” It’s not something he’s thought about a lot, but it is definitely something he’s noticed. The Loki they knew is unrecognizable in the Loki prowling the halls of the tower now. He’s something like the ‘less evil twin;’ he looks the same and sounds the same but he is very much _not_ the same.  
  
“I’ve noticed,” Bruce murmurs, thoughtful, “He’s a lot different. It’s– It’s strange.”  
  
“It is,” Tony agrees. He wonders what happened to him, to take him from what his is now, to the crazy god that tried to take over the planet. It seems like something best left to Thor to explain, but judging from the way he looks at Loki now, and from how he has spoken of him in the past, it is possibly something even he does not know the answer to.  
  
“The two of you must have a lot in common,” Bruce says idly, after some time has passed in silence, and Tony swivels his head up to look at him, frowning.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said, ‘the two of you must–’” he begins to repeat, but Tony gestures wildly, cutting him off.  
  
“No, no, no, I mean–” Tony pauses, searching for what he wants to say next. “Is this a thing? Like– Do you guys think we have stuff in common?”  
  
“I don’t know about everyone else, but I guess it’s something that has crossed my mind once or twice,” he tells him, pushing away from the desk. “You’re both smarter than average. Thor said Loki was a genius back on Asgard. I’m sure both of you could have plenty to talk about on that front.”  
  
Tony nods, considering it.  
  
“And Loki’s supposed to be the God of Mischief,” Bruce adds, smirking, “So there’s something. I’m not entirely sure if I’m looking forward to the day you two team up to cause trouble, or if I’m dreading it.”  
  
“Between his magic and my science? You should definitely be looking forward to that.”  
  
Bruce rolls his eyes. “Pretty sure I’m dreading it actually,” he corrects after a moment, “Not sure that’s good for my blood pressure. You and Clint are bad enough.”  
  
Tony laughs.  
  
  
  
Sometime later, maybe the next day, maybe the day after, Loki can’t be sure (he loses track of time between sleepless nights and avoiding Thor and fits of inexplicable _anger_ ,) he seeks out Tony Stark. It is hardly difficult to find the man. He is sprawled out on the sofa in the team’s main quarters, simultaneously eating and watching images flicker across the screen against the wall (a television, his mind supplies, though he does not remember being told this,) and doodling, no _, writing_ on what appears to be a napkin flattened out across his chest, and Loki stumbles upon him, like this, almost by accident as he is leaving the kitchen.  
  
Stark looks up at his approach and grins at him around a mouthful of food. Loki would be appalled at his manners if he had not already realized it would be a waste of time.  
  
“Hey, Loki Loki Artichokey,” he says, mouth still full, eyes shining with something that might be humor, and Loki frowns, confused.  
  
“Pardon?”  
  
“I– Nevermind.” He drops his eyes back to the television and, crumpling up the napkin and tossing it aside, gestures to the other end of the sofa. “Sit,” he says, moving his feet to make room and Loki eyes the spot warily before doing so.  
  
There is silence then and he stares idly at the television. No sound comes from it, though he suspects it should, and after a moment, he looks to find Tony staring at him. He looks thoughtful, his forehead creased just so, and Loki shifts uncomfortably, wedged where he is into the corner of the sofa.  
  
“Do you need something?” he asks, and Loki looks away with a frown, recalling why he had sought him out. For the company, partly, but also because he had nothing much else to do.  
  
"What does one do on Midgard to pass the time?” he prompts, looking at him again.  
  
Beside him, Tony smirks. "Why, you bored?”  
  
“A bit,” he responds, almost teasingly. But it is true. He has run out of books from his personal collection of interest to him enough to reread, and avoiding Thor has become increasingly difficult without the excuse of something to do. He is around every corner, at every turn, with too big smiles and too sad eyes, and Loki can stand it no longer.  
  
His eyes flicker once more to the television, and wonders what entertainment value the images moving across the screen holds. Very little to him, he reasons, watching as an explosion rocks the image and throws several people across a field.  
  
“What did you do on Asgard to fill the time?” he asks, and Loki frowns, considering the question. Time is different on Asgard, feels different, passes different, but he does not say as much, unsure of how to explain. It is not something a mortal can even come to understand, he is certain. Although looking at Tony, and recalling his extraordinary room of technology, he thinks perhaps he might not be just any ordinary mortal.  
  
“Many things. I trained, I read, I studied,” he says softly, looking at the television, though simply because it is something to look at that is not Tony and his inquisitive gaze. “On Asgard, I was a _prince_. I had responsibilities, as well.” And he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself here, what his place in all of this is supposed to be.  
  
He sits with the rest of the team, and he still feels out of place and awkward, and Thor is no help, with his not-so-subtle attempts at conversation. And Loki spends his time there ignoring everyone, head buried in a book, answering to those around him only when asked. And he has been, they have made no small amount of attempts to include him, but somehow he feels out of place. He feels as if he has no common ground with any of them, no idea as to what to talk about.  
  
Beside him, Tony stretches completely out across the sofa, his feet bumping his arm, and Loki moves it in time for Tony to drop both of his feet into his lap. He stares at them, startled, and almost misses Tony’s words  
  
“But on Midgard, you’re not a prince,” he points out, interrupting his thoughts, and Loki nods. “You’re still a God, though.”  
  
“A God whose lap you have just put your feet in,” he says, though he doesn’t quite mind, all things considered.  
  
Tony shrugs, gives him a crooked grin, and pointedly ignores the comment. “Alright, so you’re a God, among men, who isn’t quite sure of his place. I guess this counts as some kind of identity crisis, huh?”  
  
Loki snorts. “I would not go so far as to say that,” he tells him, resting a hand on Tony’s ankle. “I am merely at a loss as to what my place is among this team.”  
  
“What do you want it to be?”  
  
“I don't know,” he replies honestly.  
  
Tony considers him for a moment, his expression pensive, and Loki thinks maybe he sees something sad reflected in his eyes, but Tony blinks and it’s gone, and he can’t be sure he didn’t imagine it.  
  
“You’re a genius, right?” Tony asks at last. “Thor once said something along those lines.”  
  
And Loki nods. “Yes, something like that,” he murmurs. Genius is, perhaps, not quite the right word, but it is close. Loki does not see reason to correct Tony any more than he has.  
  
Tony cocks his head, studying him. “Alright, so your problem is this, I can see it right now– So you didn’t fit in on Asgard, right? Thor has mentioned that as well. And now you’re _here_ , and you _also_ don’t fit in. Am I getting close?”  
  
Loki swallows, throat suddenly tight. “Is there anything Thor _hasn’t_ told you?” he asks in lieu of a proper response, voice scathing and sarcastic, and Tony’s grin falls away and his jaw tenses slightly.  
  
“Plenty,” he replies smoothly, and Loki scowls. “But no, seriously, Loki, hear me out here,” he continues, nudging him with his foot. Loki tightens his grip on the man’s ankle and hopes it hurts. “I’m shit at giving advice, but I’m really trying to help here.”  
  
He pauses there, and stays silent long enough that Loki thinks, at first, he is finished speaking. But then a moment later he continues.  
  
“Think of this as a fresh start,” Tony tells him, looking at him pointedly, and there is something unreadable in his expression. “You’re in a new place with new people, and your life on Asgard can’t reach you here.”  
  
Loki nods, slowly, taking in his words. It is not completely terrible advice, regardless of how he feels about it, and Tony has, as of yet, not been completely terrible at giving it.  
  
“Thank you,” he murmurs, because he feels he owes it to this man, who has taken the time to even give him advice. And Tony grins, huge, in response.  
  
He stands a moment later, lifting his arms above his head to stretch, and Loki catches himself staring at the strip of flesh exposed by his rising shirt. He looks him over and, as Tony turns, Loki thinks he catches a spot of blue shining through his shirt. He opens his mouth, to ask about it, because surely that is not something he has just imagined, but he is interrupted by a shrill sound that, out of nowhere, begins to echo throughout the room (and the whole of the Tower, he suspects, judging by how loud the sound is.)  
  
Tony freezes, his grin dropping as quickly as it had come, and Loki looks at him, confused.  
  
“What is that?” he asks, standing and chancing a glance out of the window, to where something that might be smoke rises in the distance.  
  
“The alarm,” Tony replies, already turning and heading for the elevator. “It goes off for emergencies.”  
  
“Emergencies?” Loki follows after him, stepping into the elevator just before the door closes. The noise is significantly quieter in here, but he can still hear it, ringing in his ears.  
  
“Yeah, something bad happens, we go save the day, that kind of emergency.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Tony eyes him cautiously, frowning. “You’re coming too,” he says, and Loki blinks, startled.  
  
“I am?”

 


End file.
